Rehabilitation
by SuperSonic Violet
Summary: -AU- And after all the pain, the nights of screaming nightmares, the anti-depressants, the hapless pursuit of adrenaline and danger, the biting press reports, the insults and cold glares, the tears… This was true euphoria. "Thank you, Katara."


**A/N: Another oneshot for another Zutara Week 2013 prompt! :D This time, it's "Euphoria". This idea popped into my mind and it had to be done. Woo!**

**Warning: Sensitive topics ahead. Know that I do not intend to be offensive, and if I am somewhere along the line, I am very sorry. **

**Disclaimer: SuperSonic Violet does not own anything copyrighted. Pretty please don't sue her?**

* * *

**_Rehabilitation_**

_Zutara Week 2013  
Theme 2: Euphoria_

* * *

Sterile.

The facility smelled sterile. He had been assured many times over that this establishment, with its beige furniture and amicable lighting, was not a mental hospital – that it was akin to a hotel, almost, and as a guest, comfort was the focal point of his stay. But hotels never smelled sterile. Similarly, hotels did not have a separate wing in which their clients with overly fallible minds were stored, lurking far away from the friendly foyer and adjoining lounge – a deceitful picture, a surface coating hiding the bitter truth inside; much like his anti-depressant medication over the years.

Unconsciously, Zuko's hand drifted to the breast pocket of his leather jacket; the bottle of pills sat comfortably inside. He had adjusted to being treated differently by his family since he began engaging in acts fuelled by adrenaline. Added to the scorn which his father and sister usually dealt him, there was a dreadful, nearly taunting undertone whereby they judged him as a lunatic. His uncle, of course, was merely worried about him. The elderly man always expressed concern and attempted to intervene whenever Zuko announced that he would be going sky-diving, parasailing, shark cage diving that afternoon, and proceeded to mount his motorcycle without donning a helmet, after brushing away the old man's words.

Except this time was different.

_That day, he had not at all supposed that things would go differently. He was going bungee jumping, he told his uncle – the only remaining person on the family estate who cared about what he did – and kicked off on his black motorcycle, remembering his designer sunglasses but not his helmet. As per normal. One of his favourite bungee jumping venues was a monumental cliff along the coastline, whose rocky surface plunged outwards to meet the sea – it was greatly frequented and very popular amongst most thrill-seekers, though he never befriended any of the familiar faces. He kept affectionate relationships to a minimum. After the car accident, it was a much simpler manner of handling his life – quite easy, in fact. _

_As his motorcycle climbed the incline of the cliff, the precipice in sight, the feeling overcame him… _

_He felt invincible… wanted to drink the rush of power and euphoria… the insane urge to laugh in the face of the universe… indulge in unabashed defiance… The prospect of it made him run his tongue over his lips in anticipation, his hand clenching harder around the accelerator, the wind speeding through his hair…_

The warm pressure of Uncle Iroh's doughy hand on his shoulder snapped Zuko back to the present, keeping him from submerging in the swirl of his recollections. He lifted his head, focused his golden eyes – just barely – on the woman speaking to them as she took them on a tour of the rehabilitation facility. Bluntly, to keep himself from dwelling, he concluded his hovering thoughts: He had woken up in a hospital bed; they told him that he had broken his leg; and he had attempted to commit suicide, by the way.

He rolled his eyes and snorted – that had most assuredly not been his aim. Iroh tried to catch his eye. "What's wrong, nephew?" he asked, concerned.

Zuko glanced at him, taking in his appearance. Ever since his new hobby had started, the lines on Uncle Iroh's face had grown deeper, his wise, rich eyes wearier. In that moment, Zuko realised how very _old_ Iroh looked – and hated the fact that he was the cause of it. "Nothing," he said, as guilt shot through him, causing him to turn away.

Iroh let his hand slip away as they continued to follow the tour-guide. "Are you unhappy with this establishment? We could find another, with time…"

"No, Uncle, I'm fine."

"This is all in your interest alone, Zuko. I no longer wish to see you suffering and channelling this negative energy in the wrong, dangerous way. In fact, I will not allow it. My brother might be concerned for his image as a senator, but my concern is solely for your wellbeing and happiness. I would not be able to bare it if something terrible happened to you. Please, tell me if this centre is unsuitable – we have to find the correct one to facilitate your healing. As many attempts as it takes."

This was the third one they decided to visit. "I'm fine," he repeated. "This one looks promising."

Relief briefly flickered in Iroh's tired eyes. "Excellent!"

* * *

_The motorcycle lurched off the edge of the cliff, but it kept going. As if it were driving over the wispy clouds beneath it. Further and further he went, out over the sea, and the feeling of sheer ecstasy was incredible. It soaked into his skin even as the motorcycle began to sink lower…_

_The swirling dark waves were all-encompassing. They filled his vision, but he was not afraid – no, he was eager. A maniacal laugh burst from his wildly heaving lungs. A sweat broke out across his body as the adrenaline became overwhelming. Those waves couldn't harm him. He was invincible, remember, a being of unparalleled power! Another laugh tore his throat as his motorcycle tipped him over the handlebars, letting him giddily plunge towards the waiting sea, almost as though it were testing his supremacy._

_He opened his arms as he fell, welcoming the black waters rushing up to him. "Come on!" he bellowed, hurtling to the churning water. "What more can you do to me? Huh? Nothing worse! Come on!" _

_Everything was quiet after the waves swallowed him up, dragging him any which way. The adrenaline still pumped through his heart – strange, he could also hear his pulse in his ears, steadily growing thinner and dimmer… A sudden violent lunge from the current threw him against a rock, and made a sickening crack pound in his ears, excruciating pain shooting through him. He opened his mouth in a yell, but all that exited was a swarm of little bubbles and the water flooded into his mouth and down his throat and–_

Zuko groaned. "No…" His eyelids shook, vision shifting and swimming.

A kind, worried face hung before him, and he felt his entire body pulled up – nauseated and with his head lolling back, he took in his bed at the facility, sheets strewn about as if he had been tossing and writhing…

He registered that he felt very hot, sweat sticking his night clothes to his body, but the rush of excitement from his dream still clung to him…

But he was being ushered somewhere, bare feet padding sloppily on the floor as two people supported him…

"N-_No_…" he mumbled again. And then the world trembled beneath his feet, and his cheek, arm and leg made a hard impact with what felt like linoleum – but it was the leg that had been broken in his accident; without meaning to, in his haze, a shout of pain pushed past his teeth and he clutched his leg.

The two people tried to help him up but he scrambled away from their grip.

Before he knew it, his vision clustered together, and he felt blood trickling from his nose as he blanked out entirely…

* * *

Breath flew into Zuko's lungs in a gasp as he shot up, blinking hard, chest heaving. He looked around him – he was in the hospital sector of the facility, the one that was deceptively hidden behind the cheerful front lobby. He rolled his eyes. This was where the sterility came from, he realised, nose prickling. Zuko grumbled, settling back into his pillows, which had been propping him up into a half-sitting position on a hospital bed. He was dressed in a thin cotton robe, the kind that patients wore, and a few cords were attached to him. It was a proper hospital setup, nothing different reserved for lunatics like him, he thought bitterly. There was no one else here, as far as he–

"Awake already?"

Zuko whipped his head around, and felt himself flushing as he realised his increased heartbeat had been picked up on the heart rate monitor. He ran a hand through his hair and took in the girl on the hospital bed to his right. She was glancing at him over her book, but when he didn't respond, she shrugged and continued reading. He studied her, wondering what her ailment could be; she appeared normal – pretty, actually – with her swirling brown hair, almond skin and sky blue eyes, and her behaviour was also very normal, regardless of the fact that he was staring for a few minutes without arousing her annoyance. But then, as he tried to catch a glimpse of what she was reading, his eyes drifted from her fingers tapping wildly against the cover, to her wrists – there were straps around them, attaching her to the bed. He frowned. "So…" That caught her attention. She looked up, giving a small smile. "What are you in for?" he asked lamely.

Her friendly smile immediately dissipated into a scowl, her lips pursed. "_What am I in for_?" she repeated incredulously. "It's not a prison, you know."

"I do know that!" he protested in irritation. "I'm not exactly used to this, okay?"

Her fingers continuing to rattle atop the cover, she snapped the book shut and set it on her lap. "Are you suggesting I am? Well, it's nice to know you aren't _above_ this place, or anything."

"Hey, you're the one saying that, not me! And you – _you_ just seem so calm, sitting there reading like nothing's wrong, while I'm sitting here in my puddle of angst. I'm curious." He cut her an annoyed sidelong glance, to find her looking at him as though she were entertained. "What?"

She tittered. "Puddle of angst, huh? Hmm… Let's start again and ignore what a prick you sounded like when you asked _what I'm in for_."

He huffed, turning to her fully – and then swallowed, realising she was being genuine. "I… I'm sorry. That was insensitive."

"Don't worry about it," she said, still smiling bemusedly, and reached a hand out as far as the restraining cord would allow. "My name's Katara. And you are…?"

"Zuko." He reached over to close the distance, mindful of her restraints, the covers slipping to his waist as he shook her hand.

"Very nice to meet you, Zuko."

"Likewise," he responded softly, pulling back and masking his amusement, his sudden fascination with this unusual girl.

Satisfied, she tilted her head. "Okay, now you can ask why I'm here."

She stared at him patiently before he realised what she intended. "Oh. Uh, why are you here, Katara?" It was a nice name.

"I have obsessive-compulsive disorder," she answered.

Before he could help it, Zuko's eyes snapped down to her fingers; they still fidgeted and tapped against the book's cover. It now made sense. Nothing was what it seemed, and he felt compassionately sorry for her in that moment with the realisation. "That must be hard for you…"

She gazed sadly down at her hands, something in her face drying up. "It is. This started up an hour or two ago. It wouldn't go away, and I couldn't put the book down. It's just sticking in my mind and I can't push the urge away, even after I took medication."

Another thought occurred to him then. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Half-past one in the morning." She regarded him with a raised slender eyebrow. "So why are you here so late?"

"I… uh…" He cleared his throat, unsure how to explain his condition. "I had a nightmare – a memory of a bad experience, so they brought me here… I guess you could say my problem is that I'm addicted to adrenaline."

"And are you feeling okay now?" she asked with concern. "I mean, you came in here unconscious with a nosebleed. I didn't think you'd wake up so soon."

"I'm fine now. Thanks."

"What was your nightmare about?"

Zuko raised his eyebrow in surprise. Her apparent concern was taking him aback, but not exactly negatively. "Do you seriously want to hear my life problems? We don't even know each other."

She shrugged. "I don't mind at all. We're both in pretty much the same shoes – two psychos talking alone at midnight. In a situation like this, it's easy to get lonely, but we don't have to be." She paused and tried to lift a hand to brush a strand of her hair back, but the straps on her wrist gave a sharp jerk and prevented her from doing so. As if nothing had happened, she carried on. "Oh, but if it's private, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He sighed and slid lower on the pillows, spreading his arms over the bed so that his palms faced the ceiling; they were still moist from the aftermath of his dream. He focused his eyes on the white lights built into the ceiling. "What the hell," he muttered to himself. "It's not like I have anything to lose." Again, he found himself meeting her blue gaze out of the corner of his eyes. "It's hardly private, Katara. I'm surprised – but also kind of relieved – that you don't know."

Katara frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My father's a senator. His name's Ozai – maybe you've heard of him."

"I have," she breathed. "I thought you looked kind of familiar… So there was a lot of publicity, then?"

"What happened was probably the biggest dent in his reputation."

"Oh." She looked away. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay. It just gave him more of a reason to despise me, because I embarrassed him once more. Nothing I couldn't handle… See, I was going to go bungee jumping off the cliff at the edge of town – it's a famous place for other… people like me." _Adrenaline junkies._ "Except I'm the only one who ever wanted a stunt to go wrong for fun. As I got further up the cliff, I… I wanted to experience that rush, but in a different way. A newer way. I ended up driving my motorcycle off the cliff," he finished bluntly, eliciting a gasp from her. "As I fell further to the sea, it was the most extreme adrenaline rush I'd ever had in my life. I was foolish – I drank it all up, I didn't care that I was going to die. I-In fact, I _laughed_. I can't explain it – I felt so… euphoric.

"It was only when I broke my leg and nearly died, and woke up in another kind of hospital a few months ago, that I realised maybe it's better if I'm out of the picture, on the sidelines. But it was my uncle who refused to let me carry on living like this – even though he did try to stop me before, every single time," he uttered with a pang of guilt. "He was the best thing in my life since my mother passed away, always looking out for me. I was so undeserving…" He cleared his throat before his voice cracked, considering that Katara might not want to hear everything, despite asking. "Anyway, we found a few rehab facilities, but I eventually settled on this one.

"And… that's why I'm here. I'm pretty pathetic, aren't I?" he said quietly.

"_No_, you aren't pathetic." Once again, she startled him, this time with the firmness of her tone. "You seem really hurt and confused, and your family life… It only makes it worse, doesn't it? Except for your uncle, I mean."

"Tch, no kidding."

Katara's fists had clenched as she grew impassioned. "You mean your father didn't care that you'd almost lost your life – he only cared that there'd be some bad press, or whatever?" She shook her head. "He doesn't sound fit to run a country."

"Tell me about it." Zuko sighed; he had told her this much, things nobody else knew about him, thus there was no harm in continuing. Plus… despite his hard tone, he did feel better to finally talk about it. "My father hated me ever since I was a young boy. There was a car accident, with my grandfather and mother in the car with me – they didn't make it, but I did. That's how I got this." He unconsciously touched the edge of the scar marring the left side of an otherwise fair face. "At first I thought it was my scar that made him not want to look at me. Maybe it made him uncomfortable, I thought, and he'd always been closer to my little sister. She was the golden child. And then I found out that he didn't want to look at me because I was me. He thought it was unfair that I, the child he was never fond of, made it when his wife and father didn't… He said he'd wished it was me instead, or if anything could've been saved, it should've been the car.

"From then on, I guess I've always craved his acceptance. I'm not meant to care, but… I can't help it."

A few moments of thick silence, and he glanced at the girl beside him – and his eyes widened. Katara's kind blue eyes were glued to him, but there were tears shimmering within, one even running down her cheek. Her lips parted to speak, but she closed them, and after awkwardly rubbing her shoulder against her face to scrub the tear away, she opened them once more to speak in a hoarse tone. "I've heard bad things, but that sounds like pure evil. I-It's disgusting and…"

"It's okay, Katara." He sucked in a breath, suddenly very grateful someone had heard him. "Thank you for listening. You're one of the few good people out there."

"You don't know that," she reminded him with a weak smile.

He gave a breathy chuckle. "I guess I could know more if you told me…"

"Well, there's not much to it. My family life has always been good – but I did notice something you and I have in common: We both lost our mothers when we were young. My mother got sick, though. It was a hard time but we tried to make it as happy and fulfilling for her as we could, and afterwards, my father, my brother and I truly realised we only had each other. That's mainly why I'm here – it was never easy for them, putting up with my more difficult episodes. In the months before I checked myself in, my OCD grew worse. Unbearable. I wanted to spare them the pain, but also help myself, so… here I am."

"Maybe I would've turned out better if I'd had a family like yours."

Katara gave him a clear, sympathetic look. "Zuko, I know we only just met but… I think you're worth more than you give yourself credit for. No matter what your father says or does, you can rise above it – you don't have to prove anything to him, you don't have to do these stunts to get his attention, because you're already a better person. He is undeserving of _you_." She bit her lip. "I think you're lost… You do these stunts to feel happy because that's something you've never gotten out of life. Maybe… now's your chance to heal, and live the safe, stable life you need. Now's your chance to go after _true_ happiness."

Nothing would ever accurately explain what happened inside Zuko at that moment.

It was akin to the sun breaking past smothering darkness and swollen clouds after years of endless night. A feeling fresh as dawn. The beauty of renewal and the pure light of an epiphany. When Zuko next raised his trembling hand and touched his scar, his slim fingers came away with the moisture of a single tear. He turned to her – this unlikely, selfless girl, with beauty inside as well as outside, and gave her his first earnest smile in years. "Thank you, Katara."

And after all the pain, the nights of screaming nightmares, the anti-depressants, the hapless pursuit of adrenaline and danger, the biting press reports, the insults and cold glares, the tears…

This was true euphoria.

Before she could respond, Zuko threw the sheets back and climbed out of his bed. Limping closer to her bedside where she smiled, he reached out to take her hand – but stopped, frowning. She cocked her head, smile faltering. "What's wrong?"

"K-Katara…" He stared down at her hands, and all of a sudden began to hastily scramble at the ties binding her wrists, messily undoing them.

She regarded him with horror. "You're not dragging me into an escape attempt, are you?"

At last, he had her wrists free. He flashed a grin. "Actually, I'm about to drag you into a hug. Haven't you noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

He nodded at her hands in a gesture. "Your hands – they've stopped tapping. In fact, for the rest of the conversation, I don't think they were."

Katara's eyes widened, and she jerked her head to gape at the delicate hands in her lap – which lay there, perfectly still and normal. She lifted them slowly to the level of her eyes, examining them in amazement, perhaps wondering why they weren't dropping off and causing her to wake from a dream. But it wasn't a dream. She looked up at the boy close beside her, who bore a liberated, glad expression that probably matched her own. Without a second more of hesitation, she leaned forward and flung her arms around his neck, the book in her lap clattering to the floor; his own pair immediately reached around her waist, and the two shared in a deep embrace. Her chin tucked on his shoulder, she angled her head slightly, eyes closed tenderly. "I owe you a thank you, too."

She felt his cheeks grow hot. He swallowed and inclined his head to murmur to her. "We're gonna get better every day. I can feel it. Things are looking up for the two of us – soon, we won't have these problems at all. And when we're out of here…" Zuko paused, feeling an unexpected surge of admiration for her, and another timid, warm trickle of something else in his chest… "I'd like it if you weren't out of my life."

Before she knew it, a bright smile broke out across her face. "Me too, Zuko."

He chuckled. "Maybe I'll take you bungee jumping sometime," he joked. This was met with a tight smack on his shoulder. "Ow!"

"Don't you dare," she said in a low, warning tone, before continuing cheerfully. "Actually, I think you should meet my family. Bring your uncle. We'll show you what a real family is like."

"That sounds nice."

"You know what, Zuko?" Katara pulled back then, hands resting on his shoulders, meeting his eyes with a delighted smile that made her own sky blue pair shine in a way they had not before. "I think there just might be hope for two psychos like us, after all."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Aww, yay. That warm trickle Zuko was feeling… Yes, you've got it – he's started to fall in love with her. :3**

**Thank you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. **

**_~SuperSonic Violet_**


End file.
